Drabble #15: Wrinkled

betty sat, legs dangling over the edge of the dock, as she consumed her second ice cream. she watched her friends diving into the sea. they would appear out of the sky like angels before splashing into the ugly water. the cast on her arm kept her from joining in. so she ate vanilla ice cream instead.  afforded by asking all the boys she knew if they could spare her a penny or two.  those who wrinkled their nose at her were rewarded with a shinny shoed kick to the shin.  how do you think she broke her arm, anyway?

Drabble #14: Stretch

stretch
st re t ch
s t re t c h
s t r e t c h
s  t  r  e  t  c  h

br eath
br e a th
breath
br e a th
br eath

s  t  r  e  t  c  h
s t r e t c h
s t re t c h
st re t c h
stretch

stretch arms
legs stretch
muscles and mind

bre ath
br e a th
b r e e e e a a a th
in
breath out

stretch
st re t ch
s t re t ch

Oulipost Exit Interview, nearly one month late

Oulipost Exit Interview: Oulipost Ends Where the Work Begins


Question 1: What happened during Oulipost that you didn't expect? What are the best (or worst) moments for you?

I bought printed newspapers.  I enjoyed reading through them.  That surprised me. 

There were a lot of tired moments.  The only times I really didn't like the project was when I allowed a build up of two or three and had to do multiple poems in a day.  That was much less enjoyable then finding myself engrossed in the news of one day.

Question 3: What does your street look like?

My home street is changing.  Our neighbor has just built a new garage.  They don't have any grass.  There is enough grass on my lawn for them.  If I lease it out, do you think they'll mow part of my lawn for me?

Question 4: Who is your spirit Oulipostian?

um... I honestly haven't read very many of the poems by other oulioposters... I suppose I read more of Nicole's poems than anyone else.  And she is a wonderful human, so I chose her. ^_^

Question 5: What are the top three poems you wrote during this project?

Here you go:  http://somethingkaty.blogspot.com/2014/04/oulipost-round-up.html

Question 2: What questions do you have for your teaspoons? What questions do your teaspoons have for you?

If I could ask them, I suppose I would ask them if they like honey.  Do they like the way it feels?  They never seem to want to let it go.

My teaspoons would probably not ask, so much as demand not to be used to scoop out wet cat food.  Maybe they would ask "Why can't the forks do it?"

Question 6: What will you do next?

 I have been failing to write a drabble every day in may. 

Drabble #13: Bruises

the market stretches out for miles. actual miles.  you read it in the brochure. all manner of produce and local fare.  and girls in high heels and summer dresses with little belts synched around their little waists smelling figs and checking for bruises on the skins of white peaches.  their baskets filled with fresh roses and flour from the mill to take home to make bread for their husbands who never get to see them just like this, like you see them, out in the sun.  smelling fruit, smiling at you, and winking at each other like they know something.

Drabble #12: Leaping

from the back of the plane it was all i could do to keep my breath from escaping, from leaping out of my chest through my lips and away from me forever the way she had just... just now.  from the back of the open cargo loft she rolled out, rolled away for the last time. 

i had to hold on.  she couldn't.  she should have been strapped in around all four limbs, but the brackets gave way and she's... gone.  we're 30,000 up making tracks across the indian ocean and my car just rolled out of the f*ck*ng plane.

Drabble #11: Steel-toed

we don't talk about fashion because we're victims of it, we talk about fashion because it gives us power. we wear steel cages around our hearts to protect us against love we cannot control.  we wear steel-toed shoes every day.  we wear stripes to distract them and polka-dots to attract them.  we wear spats and straps and roses behind our ears as lures for the weaker ones, then we tear them away. the ones we can only wash with like colors and cool water.  we don't talk about it because we have to, we talk about it because we can.

Drabble #10: Cheddar

"stop saying 'orange'" he said as they walked home after lunch
"stop complaining" she said back
"if you'd stop complaining about the color of it, i'd stop complaining about you complaining" he argued
"if you'd stop making cheddar the wrong color, i'd stop complaining altogether" she argued back

they walked the rest of the way home side by side in silence.  every now and again he could feel her red trench coat brush against his bare arm.  he wished he hadn't asked her to stop complaining.  now she wouldn't say anything at all.  not to him.  not for a while.

Drabble #9: Influenza

transmitted through the air

transmitted by direct contaminated

Airborne absolutely clear

viruses by sunlight,

 

disinfectants and detergents

inactivated by soap, washing r

isk of infection can occasionally

lead pneumonia, direct viral

 

or secondary, even for persons

who are usually very healthy 

In particular it is a warning

sign to be getting better

 

and relapses with Another warning

to have trouble breathing

No benefit Influenza

spreads around the world

 

about three to five

about millions in three occurred,

existing human animal species,

birds or pigs. concern of people.

 

strain and The World officially

the outbreak to be spread actually having a rate.

Source: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Influenza

Drabble #8: Treble

the stairs creak wildly under foot
of even the tiniest beast

and the sounds seem louder
in the dark of night than it does under sunlight

because our ears grow stronger
when our eyes can't manage in the depth

of lack of light on nights when the moon
doesn't reflect even a shiver of light

but the treble still rumbles
through the dumbs nestled inside our heads

so we can hear the heart beat in our own chest
as the little beasts climb the creaking stairs

and the rhythm of their chaotic scuffles
down the corridor towards our locked door.

Drabble #7: Measure

he only weighs seven pounds, but the mass of his purr lifts my mood no matter how heavy the burdens of the day's trials resting on my back like barnacles, harsh and sticky and old.  small and soft and sweet, he greets me with his tail in the air and a meow on his little orange lips. his whiskers the measure of happiness. he shares that happiness in his own little ways; nestling onto your lap for a tv show and purring so loud, you have to turn the volume up to 46. he fits just perfectly, lightening the world.

Drabble #6: dew

it would have been a Tuesday
by the calendar created at the start.

the sun collapsed against the horizon
in a hundred different strands of color

pleated against the ocean like fabric
on a young girl's first, best dress.

while a spider watched as the world ended,
colorless it stayed dangling by a silken thread

in the cool of a wind swept beach,
as life slipped beneath the earth.

the last sunset, the last settle of dew
on the last strands of crab grass

at the last place where the sun was seen
by the last spider that ever lived.

Drabble #5: indigo

your hair is a mess, big and brown, ruffled against a night of vibrant dreams, running and jumping and falling freely through miles of uncharted airspace, ruffled against the pillows, the static building up from the friction of hair versus fabric, yours eyes are stuck shut with the residue of rapid eye movement, deep dreaming, memory building, reformation of the neural passage, your feet are sticking out from under the indigo and green patched duvet you tossed around all night, the light shining in against your pink wrinkled cheek where the creases from your pajama sleeves left their wicked marks.

Drabble #4: threaded

the flannel is worn away at the elbows on the shirt you've worn for 14 years.

it smells just like you, even after a wash. 

soft as skin to touch, i pet the sleeve against your forearm and imagine what you would look like if your skin were flannel patterned.  it wouldn't be very different.

you take my hand in yours.  we're at the movies.  or an arcade.  or one of your friend's parents' house on a Thursday night.  you take my fingers and thread them through yours.  threaded tighter than the fibers holding the elbows of your shirt together.

Drabble #3: Worrisome

the thump thump thump

my heart, when the lights go out

 

it starts with heavy

sounds like thunder and earthquakes

 

rumble my guts and echo my heart's

thump thump thump...

 

we're trapped.  stuck in this

until the end.  bitter or sweet.

 

exposed to clouds and sad songs

 

thump

 

the crashing down of

heavy limbs and the screeching

 

the sound of monsters

from the deep

 

thump, my heart stops,

thump, my heart starts,

 

thump thump thump... 

the audience screams

 

some worrisome tremor

this heavy burden of suspense,

 

the sound of souls losing

their grip on tangible

 

hearts. they go thump... thump...

Drabble #2: Simple

the sun was peaking in through the gap in the blinds.  he needed to go back to the hardware store to get the correct sizes. 

moving in was too much work.  too many boxes that he neglected to label.  no clean clothes, because he packed all his clean and dirty clothes together.  biggest mistake he'd ever made.  even bigger than the wrong size blinds. 

so he showered with dirty clothes on.  another mistake.  how was he ever going to dry them?

he sulked out of the bathroom and out onto the deck.

there enjoyed the simple warmth of the sun. 

Drabble #1: Vaster

what comes to mind first
when you say "did you see that thing on the news?"

is that the mass of all the termites on earth
outweigh the mass of all the humans.

but that wasn't what you were referring to.

you mention a car crash, and i imagine the probability
of two cats with the exact same stripes.

or the complexity of mitochondria,

and the way some plants grow better in sand.

"hello?" i watch your hand wave before my eyes
"are you listening to me?" and ponder the vaster nature

of every day, reoccurring.
like a hand waving.